


Prompt Drabble Collection

by Kangofu_CB



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, Gladiators, Gratuitous Violence, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Multiple Timelines, NSFW, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possibly AU, Possibly OOC, Tumblr Prompt, WAFF, in between all this emotional bullshit there's sex in here, individual fics are not related to each other unless otherwise stated in the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-11-09 09:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11101641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/pseuds/Kangofu_CB
Summary: Parking all my prompt responses here.  Pay attention to individual drabble warnings, found at the top of each chapter.  Multiple pairings. No set timeline.  No set background.These have undergone some editing since they were posted on Tumblr, so expect minor changes if you read them there first.





	1. Face of the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @lighteningavenger’s 390 Prompts challenge: “So for the writing prompt would you combine 321 and 323? (The dance one and the pot brownie one in case I got the numbers wrong).”
> 
> You didn’t give me a pairing, but this seemed fun and fluffy, and said 2x4 to me! Hope you enjoy!

Duo was trying to watch Quatre without drawing attention to the fact that he was watching Quatre.  Least of all the notice of the blonde himself, though that wasn't likely, given how he was wholly focused on dancing.  He looked more relaxed than he had in years, maybe ever, and Duo was drinking it in, committing it to memory, hoarding it with all the other stolen moments and memories he had of the man.

 

It had been almost a decade since the end of the war, and Duo felt simultaneously too old and too young for this world.  The pilots had grown up, filled out, built lives, but the horrors of war and the training practically from birth had marked them all in irreversible ways. They didn't trust easily, kept to themselves, their small group, always tight-knit, still dependent on each other, despite leading separate lives.  All of them maintained a watchful eye on the government, on the Preventers, on the peace.

 

Duo and Heero had started a security company, a rather successful one, made more so by its owners’ connections to certain high-level politicians and businessmen.  Trowa went back to school, was now traveling with the circus as their animal expert and exotic veterinarian.  Wufei taught engineering classes at the university.  

 

And Quatre, well, Duo had watched him grow from his teenage crush into… something considerably more profound. The blonde had shot up several inches, filled out, lost the boyish roundness to his face, and grown his hair out into a deceivingly casual wind-swept cut.  Duo’d watched him apply his seemingly innocent good looks and less-innocent, manipulative mind to WEI, watched him charm the board, watched him outmaneuver and outwit the ones he couldn’t charm.  He’d watched him turn into a force to be reckoned with in the boardroom as much as he’d ever been on the battlefield.  Watched him become one of the most powerful men in the Earth Sphere.

 

One of the best-looking, too.  Duo'd also watched him date everyone from models to politicians, men and women alike, flitting from one casual romance to another brief fling, leaving nary a heart broken In his wake.

 

Except Duo’s.

 

Not that Quatre seemed to notice.  Duo made sure of that.

 

To his left, Heero cleared his throat, pointedly, giving him a knowing look.  Duo yanked his attention back to the table and discussion at hand, but refused to make eye contact with the Japanese pilot.  This was a game they’d been playing for years, and both were well practiced at it.  Duo looked fixedly at Trowa and Wufei, caught up in some kind of debate.  Out of the corner of his eye saw Heero roll his eyes before turning to signal the waitress.  A few minutes later, another beer appeared miraculously in front of Duo.

 

“Figured you needed the help to drown your pathetic sorrows, since you can’t be bothered to actually do anything about them.” Heero muttered out of the side of his mouth, going unnoticed by the others.

 

Duo snorted. “Yeah, what’s that you think I oughta be doin’ then?” he responded, dryly.  But free beer was free beer, and he took a swig from the bottle.

 

Heero didn’t answer, just shook his head, turning back to their friends.  This was their monthly pilot gathering, a chance to relax, unwind, spend time together.  They all struggled to form relationships outside the group, and the opportunities to truly be themselves were fleeting.  Wufei and Trowa were deeply involved in some discourse about the ongoing terraforming of Mars and the possible introduction of Earth plants and animals to the native climate and within minutes Duo’s attention had drifted again.  

 

Back to the dance floor.

 

He couldn’t pinpoint _exactly_ when he’d grown attached to Quatre, but he suspected it was sometime during the war, possibly during those weeks spent hiding in the desert, confused and disheartened, aimless.  Duo’d never expected to survive the war, and, if he were being honest, he’d never expected any of them to survive.  They'd been the underdogs by a long stretch, the five of them versus **everyone**.  But dying in battle was different than watching your compatriot blow himself up in a spectacular display of Fuck Right Off.  

 

It had been horrific.  And strangely inspiring.  And a million other things, wrapped up in regret and sorrow, and Duo, who’d seen too many people die, had gone off with Quatre to duct tape his soul back together _again_.  Quatre, more than any of the others, had seen him at his most wretched and cynical.  Had helped patch him up with generosity and kindness, and just enough kick in the pants to keep him motivated to move forward.  Forced him to look outside himself and his revenge and his bitterness, and forge all that ugliness into something he could stomach and utilize.  Had forced all of them into their little ragtag band of Boys Against the World, had created victory from certain defeat.

 

Quatre who put up with exactly none of his shit, and, for all of his angelic looks, could be counted on to coddle Duo precisely not at all, who could, in fact, dish out just as good as he got.  Or better, maybe.  Who was Duo’s best friend.

 

Who was currently grinding on the dance floor in designer jeans, tailored to fit perfectly, tshirt clinging to a muscled upper body, tossing his sweaty hair out of his face.

 

Jesus Christ.

 

Duo turned his back on the dancers, gulping down the rest of his beer, signaling the waitress himself this time.  Heero smirked at him.  

 

“Shut up, Yuy,” Duo muttered, resisting the urge to turn around.  

 

The other man’s smirk widened, gaze flicking behind him, briefly, knowingly.

 

A warm palm landed on his shoulder.  Duo turned his head, looking up into electric blue eyes, a wide smile.  “Come dance with me,”  Quatre demanded, a little breathless.  His face was practically euphoric, warm and inviting.  Sexy.  He was impossible to resist, not that Duo put much effort into resisting anything Quatre asked him for.  Or any effort, really.

 

Heero shoved him, not at all subtle, and Duo nearly fell on the floor.  He shot a dark glare over his shoulder as he was tugged away from the table, eyes promising retribution.  Heero didn’t even bother to look, radiating smug satisfaction even with his back turned.

 

Duo was pulled flush against Quatre’s body, easily finding a rhythm to the heavy beat, the two of them rocking together with practiced ease.  

 

It wasn’t the first time they’d danced together.  

 

It probably wouldn’t be the last.

 

It was like exquisite torture, if Duo were being perfectly honest.  

 

Quatre leaned into him, still smiling, eyes drooping, bringing their foreheads together.  Duo grinned at him in response, relaxing into the music.  He loved to dance, especially with Quatre, even though he knew it was never going anywhere.  That friendship was all they would ever have.  

 

The blonde’s hips shifted, catching a change in the music, rolling his pelvis in counterpoint to Duo’s, wrenching an involuntary gasp from his throat.  His partner giggled, and Duo rolled his eyes.  It wasn't the first time he'd done something like that, either.  Duo didn't think Quatre knew what kind of torment he visited on him, with his teasing thrusts and sensual body, he didn't think the other man could be that devious.

 

Though that innocent face often hid a lot of deviousness.

 

“Where’d you learn to dance, anyway?”  Duo asked, suddenly curious.  They’d been going out, dancing together, and with others, for as long as they’d looked plausibly old enough to get in, fake ID’s child’s play for people with their skills.  It had always been him and Quatre, the others not interested, looking at them like they'd lost their minds.  Which is exactly what Duo did - lost himself in the music, the beat, resting his brain from its incessant loop of past images, nightmares, questions.

 

Another press of hips, accompanying snicker, before Quatre answered.  “From you, of course.”

 

Duo boggled at him.  “From me? When did you ever learn to dance from me?”  He couldn't recall ever teaching Quatre the first thing about the erotic way he moved.

 

Blue eyes watched him from underneath lashes, eyes sparkling with mirth.  “I used to watch you.  You dance when you work, didn't you know?  When you were working on your Gundam, or listening to music, or cooking.  Whenever your mind wanders, you dance.  It’s hot.”  A hand crept down into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling Duo closer.  Pressing their bodies impossibly tighter.

 

At the pole-axed expression on Duo’s face, Quatre started laughing in earnest, eventually leaning on Duo’s shoulder and hiccuping with laughter.  Duo looked down at him, bewildered.  

 

It wasn’t that funny.  

 

Though now that he thought of it, the blonde had been unusually mirthful and relaxed all night...

 

“Q, are you _high_?” Duo asked, incredulously.  Not that he didn’t partake occasionally, himself, but this was a new look for Quatre.

 

That set him off again, and the two of them were practically standing still on the dance floor waiting on Quatre’s humor to subside.  “Proooooobably,” he answered, stifling giggles.  “I bought brownies at the bake sale, but I got the _special_ ones.”  

 

“Who brought pot brownies to a bake sale?!”  Duo asked.  “Wait, what bake sale?”

 

Quatre dragged Duo’s hands back to his hips, trying to regain their lost momentum, tugging at him to move.  “We're supposed to be dancing, Duo!”  

 

The long haired man obliged, picking the rhythm back up, still looking at Quatre questioningly.

 

“The circus had a bake sale.  They were raising money for one of the lions to have surgery.  Trowa can’t do that on-site.  So I bought them out.”  

 

Duo snorted with laughter.  Of course he had.  Trowa could have just asked him for the money, but that wasn’t his style. “And how did you end up with the special batch?”  Surely they hadn't had a booth labeled 'pot brownies' for the general public.

 

Quatre shrugged languidly, body rolling with the motion, but his eyes twinkled mischievously.  “Cathy gave them to me.  She _insisted_.  She said I looked like I needed them more than her.”

 

Duo laughed out loud, amused at the picture it presented.  The blonde probably _had_ needed them more than Cathy.  He worked harder than anyone else Duo knew.

 

The music changed, increased in tempo and intensity, and soon they were using too much oxygen to dance to be able to hold a conversation, both of them pressed close, sweaty, lost to the rhythm, unaware of time.  They were mindless, lost in grinding hips and wandering hands, unaware of the attention they attracted, eyes that watched them.

 

Duo’s eyes widened as a hot mouth inched it’s way up his throat, breath stuttering in his chest.  He groaned, enjoying the sensation, before he leaned back to look at his friend.  “Q… what are you doing?”  

 

His heart was squeezing painfully in his chest. 

 

The other man stared back at him, challenging, the hazy good humor of the early evening gone, replaced with something darker, hotter, and more calculating.  Lustful.  “Making the first move, since you were never going to.”  He leaned back in, pressing his mouth to Duo’s, lips already open where he’d been panting for air, his lips damp and cool, a hot tongue dipping in, briefly, to explore.  Duo’s hand spasmed where it was resting on Quatre’s back, clenching his shirt, dragging him closer.

 

Duo broke away, breathing heavily.  “What- I’m not-”. He stopped, not even sure what he was trying to say.  He glanced around, looking for the others, some kind of escape.  

 

“They left, ages ago.”  More hot kisses trailed across his throat, teeth nipping at his earlobe.

 

Oh, god, he wanted it _so much._  Too much.  Duo closed his eyes.  He was really, _really_ going to hate himself for this later.  He opened them again, watching the blonde currently working his way across his collar bone, fingers sliding under the hem of his shirt.

 

“Wait.  Stop." He was breathless with need, want, but anxiety was overriding even that.  "What are we doing?”  Duo cringed, simultaneously dreading and anticipating the answer.

 

“I thought that was fairly obvious, Duo.”  A firm, lean body pressed up against his, knees to chest, backing him into a corner of the wall on the dark edges of the dance floor.  He couldn’t stop the involuntary thrust he made when their pelvises lined up, tell-tale bulge giving away the answer to his question.

 

“Quatre.”  Duo took a deep breath, closing his eyes, forcing his brain into action.  “I can’t… I can’t do this.  I don’t… I don’t want to be a fling for you, just for a night, or a week, or whatever.”  He opened his eyes, meeting confused blue.  “I’m not interested in _casual_ , Quatre.”

 

Quatre laughed, simultaneously light with amusement and heavily laced with lust.  “I’ve been waiting ages for you to figure it out Duo.  I’m not interested in casual either, I’m only interested in you, permanently, in my life and my bed.  I just ran out of patience waiting for you to _say something_.  I was trying to give you time to work out your feelings.”

 

Duo’s heart stuttered, squeezing painfully with hope this time, instead of disappointment, as Quatre’s words settled there.  Looking into Quatre’s expectant face, he lurched forward, wrapping his arms around the other man, planting a forceful kiss on his mouth.

 

When they broke apart, gulping down air, Duo looked the smiling face of his future, felt his own mouth curving in response, and said, “What are we waiting for?  Take me home to your bed already.”


	2. Say Something Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ficlet request by @chronicwhimsy for the 390 Prompts challenge. “338. ‘Will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you!’ 5x2″ Enjoy my dear!!!
> 
> This one kind of got away from me, it was supposed to be cute and fluffy but then it just turned into porn. Unbeta’d, written in an afternoon.
> 
> Warnings: PWP (Seriously, “UPS guy delivers a package” has more plot than this), NSFW, not for minors.

“Go away,” Duo grumbled at the sound of the door opening and closing behind him, wringing muddy water out of his hair.  “I don’t need any help, and I don’t need any ‘tips’ from the peanut gallery about how I could have done a better job with your little set-up.”

 

There was the sound of shifting and a frustrated sigh behind him before the interloper drew in air to speak.

 

“Not. Interested.  And that ploy of yours wasn't clever at all, by the way.”  His socks were squelching inside of his shoes.  Yuck.  He toed them off, reaching down to drag the socks off of his feet.  Standing up from the bench he’d commandeered, he leaned over the short wall to turn the locker room shower on.

 

Another exasperated noise sounded behind him, the sound of a deep, calming breath being taken.  There was a moment of silence, then the sound of someone preparing to try again.

 

“Lalalalala I can’t hear you!” Duo sang, obstinately refusing to turn around.  “I’ve suffered enough at your hands today, and I’d like to leave with what’s left of my dignity intact.”  He stripped his shirt over his head, braid slapping wetly against his back.  He sighed, dreading the task of washing and re-braiding it.

 

There was a choking sound behind him as he unsnapped his jeans.  “You should probably take a walk or you’re going to get a free show, and you’re not my preferred audience-”

 

“Will you just shut up for a moment so I can say something nice to you?!”

 

Duo whirled around, caught by surprise.  He’d assumed it was Heero behind him, but instead he found Wufei, just as covered in muck as him, looking considerably more disgruntled. He was suddenly way more self-conscious of his jeans sagging and hair a sloppy mess.

 

When he fantasized about getting half-naked with Wufei, this wasn’t the way it usually panned out.

 

Not that Wufei knew about that, of course.

 

Duo groaned.  “Sorry, man, I thought you were Heero, and-”

 

Wufei sighed, scrubbing at the muddy streaks on his face.  “I know very well who you thought I was.  Didn’t I just ask you to be quiet?”

 

Duo grinned.  “Yeah, well, that’s not a very nice way to tell a guy you wanna say somethin’ nice to him.”

 

Wufei sighed again.  “You’re right.  I came to say I’m… sorry.  I shouldn’t have let Yuy goad me.  And… thank you for having my back, as always.”

 

Duo laughed.  “Hey man, you’re the one thought you could take Heero in tug-a-war.  I tried to save you from yourself, but then I figured what kinda partner would I be if I didn’t at least step up to the plate.  He tricked you with that Quatre shit though.”  Duo shrugged.

 

Wufei snorted.

 

Heero had challenged the hot-tempered Chinese man to a ‘friendly’ game at the Preventers’ annual family picnic. The trouble had started when he'd accused Wufei of being scared when he’d declined. Once he had him good and riled up, Heero had then offered to let Wufei have his choice of partners as he’d take Quatre, making it sound like that was some great handicap.

 

Duo hadn’t been fooled.  The delicate-looking blonde had been a Gundam pilot, same as the rest of them, and he’d once witnessed him take Trowa down at arm wrestling. But Wufei hadn’t been dissuaded, and, rolling his eyes and already knowing how this was going to end, Duo’d agreed to help him ‘defend his honor’.

 

Heero had smirked at him condescendingly before they even started.  Duo suspected he’d set the whole thing up to get the two of them in the showers together, but then Wufei had stomped off in a huff after their spectacular loss - Heero and Quatre had dragged them entirely  _ through _ the mud puddle and several yards of grass, laughing maniacally, before they’d been able to unwrap their hands from the rope.

 

“You are a sick, sick man,” Duo had hissed at Heero before he’d gone off in the other direction, headed for the agent locker rooms.  He'd made the mistake of telling Heero about his quiet infatuation one night after a few too many drinks, and he'd regretted it ever since. 

 

A matchmaker Yuy was  _ not _ .

 

And his jeans were never going to be the same.

 

“No,” Wufei conceded, “Quatre is not as weak and innocent as he pretends to be.  I think we were set up.”

 

“Shyeah,” Duo muttered, “I’d say so.”  He didn't mention it was Wufei who'd been set up, he was just the poor sucker along for the ride. Cold water was running from his braid, down his back, trickling down into the waist of his pants.  He shivered.

 

Wufei was watching him, seeming to be suddenly aware of Duo’s half-dressed state. When his eyes drifted to the half undone fly of his jeans, Duo shivered again, for entirely different reasons. The dark eyes trailed back up, cataloging his distress, the look on his face considering. 

 

Duo hastily turned to adjust the shower temperature, putting his back to his partner, clearing his throat awkwardly. 

 

Steam was building in the locker room from the shower Duo had cranked to full blast, and he was starting to sweat, in addition to being grimy and damp. He shucked the jeans, leaving him in nearly-dry boxer briefs as he reached for the tie at the end of his braid. 

 

“You plannin’ to shower too? I didn't think you'd wanna ride home like this?” Duo questioned, beginning to unravel his hair. 

 

Whatever Wufei said in response was muffled, and Duo turned around to ask him for clarification, just in time to catch Wufei pulling the shirt over his head, revealing a lean, toned stomach and chest.  He swallowed dryly, a small sound escaping his throat, only sheer will power preventing a situation from developing in his shorts.  

 

Tossing his shirt onto the bench, Wufei reached for the snap on his pants, and Duo hurried to turn away for the shower.  Yanking his boxer briefs off he stepped over the slight ledge into the shower stall, which was open except for the short tile wall.  It was spacious, but not the most private situation, and Duo was starting to wish he’d just gone ahead and ridden his bike home instead of electing to shower here.  

 

His brain betrayed him, speculating about what kind of underwear - oh, god, or maybe none! - Wufei wore under his pants, and he started aggressively thinking of cold showers and old ladies. 

 

Then he was conscious of another body ducking into the shower with him.  “Move over Duo, your water is already hot.  You know as well as I do that if you turn another shower head on in here, the hot water only lasts twenty seconds and the water pressure is abysmal.”

 

_ Oh dear god _ , the universe was laughing at him.

 

He shifted to the right, reaching for his shampoo, and began lathering his hair, studiously avoiding a peek at Wufei.

 

That lasted less time than the hot water would have.  He wasn’t half through with the shampoo when he found his gaze drifting to the left, admiring his friend.

 

And there was so much to admire.  The other man was standing with his back to the spray, head leaned into the water, arms lifted to allow his fingers to comb through his hair.

 

It was a fantasy he didn’t even know he’d needed, but he was sure it was going to feature prominently in his future dreams.  Duo couldn't stop a moan, low in his throat, and he closed his eyes, breath stuttering.

 

“Duo?  Are you alright?”  Wufei didn’t even open his eyes, just continued rinsing his hair.  

 

Duo whirled back to the wall, scrubbing furiously at his hair.  He cleared his throat.  “Ah yeah, yeah I’m fine.”  Except for the now rock hard erection he was sporting, yeah he was just  _ peachy _ .

 

“Water’s free,” Wufei murmured, moving out of the spray.  

 

And Duo realized he had a problem.  It was going to be really, really damn difficult to rinse his hair backwards.

 

_ Goddammit _ .

 

Sighing, he twisted into the spray, hoping Wufei was feeling spectacularly unobservant this afternoon. Facing the wall, he attempted to get the soap out of his hair despite the awkward angle of the water and the fact that half of it ran into his face.

 

“Duo.”  Wufei paused, sounding confused.  “Wouldn’t that be easier if you faced the other direction?”

 

“Yep.”  He didn’t offer anything further, just concentrated on not drowning and trying to get the soap out of the mass of hair.

 

He should’ve waited to wash it at home.  

 

In fact, he should have just gone the hell home in the first place.

 

He was going to kill Heero.

 

He could practically  _ hear _ Wufei thinking, wondering what in the hell was wrong with him.

 

And he still had to use conditioner.  Trying to skip it would be a complete disaster.  Maybe Wufei would be done before he got that far.

 

Wufei made a sound that fell somewhere between exasperation and amusement.  “Would it help if I said I’d close my eyes?”

 

Duo snorted out a laugh.  “Maybe,” he allowed, still struggling with his hair.  After about thirty more seconds, he finally gave up, turning around.

 

To find dark eyes appraising him, mouth smirking, as their owner lazily scrubbed himself down with soap.

 

Duo rolled his eyes, letting his hair drift over the front of his body, knowing it wasn’t enough to preserve any sort of modesty.  “I thought you said you were going to close your eyes?” he asked, sarcastically.  It was too late anyway, if he were being honest.  It was a fairly  _ noticeable  _ situation. 

 

“No, I only asked if it would help, I never said I was going to do it.”  Wufei’s voice had taken on a decidedly sensual purr, and Duo swallowed hard, heat pooling in his belly.  Any minute success he’d had at beating back his arousal was long gone, blood rushing to his groin.

 

Wufei’s gaze trailed over his body like a physical caress, pausing at strategic points, and when he finally met Duo’s eyes again, he didn’t look shocked, appalled, or any of the other negative things Duo would have expected, had feared.

 

He looked downright predatory, face suffused with lust.  “Need some help?” He asked, voice throaty and rough.  Duo took the time to peruse the other man’s body, taking in the flush on his face and chest, peaked nipples, and very prominent erection. 

 

Duo smirked at him.  “Soap’s out now.”  He reached for the conditioner, sliding his fingers through the strands, pulling it over to the side as he did so, body on full display.  He wasn’t the least bit body shy, he’d just been trying to preserve his friendship with the Chinese agent.  If he was willing to pursue something beyond that…

 

Well, Duo wasn’t going to object.  He finished with the conditioner, tying his hair up in a loose knot on his head, and picked up the soap.

 

“I didn’t mean with your hair,” Wufei growled, stalking over, snatching the soap out of his hands, yanking Duo against him for the hottest kiss of his life.  Duo stepped closer, pressing their bodies together, moaning.  They rocked together, mouths moving furiously, as slippery, soapy hands explored firm bodies.  

 

Duo slid his hands over firm shoulders, hands tangling in Wufei’s hair, as the other man slid his lower, fingers dragging along hips, reaching around to grasp-

 

Duo broke away with a gasp, as a hard, calloused palm wrapped around his cock.  “Oh god,” he groaned, thrusting up into the grip. He felt a smile against his neck as Wufei’s mouth traveled across his jaw and throat.

 

“Not that I’m- ah!- complainin’,” Duo said, hissing out a breath at a particularly clever stroke, “but what brought this on?”

 

Wufei chuckled, swiping his thumb across the head of Duo’s cock, nipping at his earlobe.  “Heero hunted me down, told me to get my head out of my ass, and sent me your way.  I thought he meant I owed you an apology but…” he trailed off suggestively, his unoccupied hand reaching around to give Duo’s ass a firm squeeze.  

 

Duo huffed out a laugh that was choked off by a moan as a daring finger made its way between his cheeks, circling unexplored territory.  His head dropped to rest on Wufei’s shoulder as he pressed shamelessly forward into the hand grasping him, and back against the unexpected contact.  He dragged his own hand down from Wufei’s hair, searching out his neglected erection.  The other man did his own groaning as Duo flicked his fingers around the sensitive crown before giving him a firm stroke.

 

The wayward finger nudged its way inside him, just barely, teasing, and after that conversation became impossible.  They were all hot kisses, rocking hips, and lusty moans.  Duo nipped at Wufei’s lower lip, the other man shuddering, his cock twitching in Duo’s hand.  He dragged his mouth down, planting open mouthed-kisses along his throat, before biting down where neck met shoulder-

 

“Fuck!”  Wufei groaned, erection swelling, and then he was coming, hips jerking erratically, hand spasming on Duo’s cock, setting off a shivering, grasping, gasping reaction as Duo came too, groaning Wufei’s name, suddenly boneless, nearly sliding to the floor as Wufei crowded him up against the wall, supporting him.

 

They stood there, panting, gulping down air for long minutes, until Duo became aware of his tangled, slimy hair, and the cold water raining down from the ignored shower head.

 

Duo chuckled, stroking his hands languidly up and down Wufei’s spine. 

 

“What's so funny?” the Chinese man breathed, lips trailing along his shoulder. 

 

“Heero can never know about this. He’ll be even more insufferable than he already is.”

 

Wufei snorted. “He won't hear it from me.” He trailed a hand suggestively along Duo’s hip. “What are your plans for the afternoon?”

 

“I'm sure we can work somethin’ out,” Duo drawled, “if you give me a hand gettin’ this shit out of my hair so we can leave.”

 

Wufei pressed forward, planting a hard, impatient kiss against his mouth, tongue diving in briefly.  When he pulled back Duo was breathing hard, mouth tingling. He trailed his mouth to Duo’s ear, tonguing the lone, and said “I’ve dreamed about having you in my bed.”

 

Duo groaned, heat shooting down his spine, as Wufei dragged him to the shower to rinse is hair. “I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me ‘Fei. Lead with that next time.”

 

Wufei chuckled, starting the arduous process of rinsing Duo’s hair. “I just did.”

 

 

 

 

 


	3. "Share a bed" prompt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Talliya, who sent me the prompt "Sharing a bed 1x5"

Wufei stumbled into the safehouse he’d been given coordinates for, his entire body uncoordinated in its exhaustion and his mind fuzzy with a need for sleep. He’d stayed alert only long enough to hide his gundam and ensure he’d not been followed, and by the time he dragged himself onto the porch of the tiny cabin, he was barely coherent.

  
He dropped his small duffle where it landed near the entry way, toeing off his shoes and shucking his jacket, his normal proclivity for neat organization overshadowed by the intense need for rest. He’d been running, literally and figuratively, on fumes for days, snatching only a handful of hours of rest that wasn’t very restful, his body on high alert.

  
Retaining the presence of mind to realize that once he was out it would probably be hours upon hours before he was cognizant again, Wufei made a beeline for what looked like a small bathroom, relieving himself and gulping handfuls of water from the tap, before turning towards the only other unknown room in the tiny house, single-mindedly hunting a bed. He steered his body towards what looked like a brass bedstead, the room almost pitch black, and aimed for a soft pillow, every intention on collapsing on top of the blankets and into oblivion, clothes be damned.

  
The gun pointed at his face when he got two feet from the bed was a bit like having a bucket of ice water dumped over his head.  
Irritated blue eyes stared at him over the edge of a quilt, dark hair mussed from sleep.

“Chang.” Voice rough with sleep as it identified him, switching the safety and tucking the gun back under his pillow where he’d presumably stashed it.

  
“Yuy,” he returned, hesitantly. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were here… they sent me the coordinates. I thought…” he trailed off. There was clearly no other bedroom in the cabin, and while Wufei would be _willing_ to go sleep on the rickety couch he vaguely recalled seeing in the front room, he really didn’t _want_ to. Of course, trying to force his way into bed with trigger-happy Captain Paranoia was probably worse.

  
Probably.

  
The blankets shifted, Yuy obviously rearranging himself under the pile of covers and then… nothing. Silence. Sighing, Wufei turned to shuffle back out of the room into the living room and the probably-lumpy couch.

  
“Chang.”

  
Wufei turned, to find himself being regarded with amusement by the Wing gundam pilot, who had clearly shifted to make room for Wufei in the bed.

  
“Where are going?”

  
Gaping, Wufei didn’t move, staring at the other man, who was now well on his way to laughing at him.

  
Heero Yuy, laughing.

  
This was clearly a sleep-deprivation induced hallucination.

  
Yuy climbed out of bed, in his ubiquitous shorts and tank top, and took Wufei by the shoulders, steering him towards the mattress. Finally coordinating himself enough to not stumble over his own two feet, Wufei made it the last couple of steps on his own, moving, again, to collapse onto the mattress, but Heero stopped him. Wufei paused, swaying, as Heero turned back the blankets.

  
Then he collapsed, face first, in a heap of undignified, graceless goo.

  
More laughter as Heero tucked the blankets around him and moved past the foot of the bed to crawl into the other side.

  
“Yuy,” Wufei slurred, unsure of what he was trying to convey.

  
“You’re welcome,” Heero responded, quietly. “Sleep. I’ll keep watch. You’re safe.”

  
Wufei had the fleeting thought that he’d known that when Heero had pulled the gun out, and then he was gone, dragged under the dark waves of unconsciousness, resting in the sure knowledge that Heero would take point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd little thing, but I had fun with it!


	4. Colosseum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a drabble I posted on Tumblr after I woke up from a nap with it dancing around my brain. Inspired by Ancient Roman gladiator customs. My history may be off, it's all from my own remembered knowledge. Vaguely 2x3 ish.

Half the crowd was going wild, screaming and yelling, practically frothing at the mouth, driven to a frenzy by the action in the center of the arena.

 

Flamma had his opponent at his mercy, chest heaving, blood spatter across his oiled body, a sword held to the other man’s throat - a man whose name no one even bothered to learn.  This match had been a forgone conclusion, designed simply to work the audience into exactly this sort of mania.

 

Relena watched Emperor Heero, to her left, as he gazed dispassionately over first the remnants of the fight - if it could be called that - and the crowd, who were urging him in his decision, split evenly between life and death.

 

She knew the outcome before he ever lifted his hand.  The loser would die.  He’d demonstrated no memorable technique, no potential promise of improving.  

 

He would be no gladiator.

 

And the Emperor was looking for a personal retinue of bodyguards.  All of the combatants had heard the rumor.  They would show up in good form.  Flamma himself had shown admirable skill, though Relena doubted Heero would choose him.

 

Sure enough, after holding his hand up neutrally for a long moment, waiting for the crowd to subside, Heero flicked his thumb in _pollice verso_ \- sealing the man’s fate.

 

His body was dragged away, but Relena’s attention had already turned to the gates through which the next competitors would appear.  This was the fight everyone had been waiting on, the two emerging gladiators evenly matched, who had met in combat and fought to a draw already twice.  

 

The first was a Secutor, and an _auctorati_ \- a volunteer - and he had enjoyed immense popularity for some time even before the newcomer had arrived.  Heavily armored in the tradition of his school and calling himself Nanashi, he had long since earned his retirement, but he chose to continue to fight.

 

The second was something of a novelty, a slave brought from unknown lands, and suitably unusual for the Colosseum. He’d earned himself something of a fanclub almost immediately, but his skill in the arena had garnered him a now-dedicated following. He fought bareheaded, long braided hair swinging behind him, left handed and spinning a sickle, furious grin on his face.  Shinigami.  

 

They met on a clash in the middle of the amphitheater arena, both of them oiled and glistening in the sun, marks of previous battle decorating exposed skin.  A _summa rudis_ shadowed them, his staff at the ready to separate them at a crucial moment, if necessary.

 

But they were experts, and no such intervention was needed, the men ducking and weaving, the combat close to a dance, their weapons as extensions of themselves.  They battled, twisting and turning, for nearly twenty minutes before, through some unspoken communication, each stepped back, fingers aloft.

 

 _Ad digitum_ \- acknowledgement of defeat.  

 

Another draw.

 

The crowd surged to its feet, volume a crescendo of screaming and applause.

 

The two gladiators acknowledged only each other, smug smirks on their faces.

 

Heero remained sitting for a moment, head resting casually on his palm as he surveyed the arena.  His gestured, seemingly-casual, towards the editor, who nodded in acceptance.  He strode out to the arena, bearing gifts for the victor.

 

A laurel crown for Nanashi.  A _rudis_ \- wooden staff - for Shinigami.  The crowd fell silent in surprised awe.  Mutual victory.  Emancipation.  

 

Shinigami no longer a slave.

 

His face was alive with fierce victory.

 

Heero swept from his seat, indigo cloak trailing behind him.  “Bring them to me,” he called, negligently, as he retreated to the private rooms reserved for the Emperor of Rome.

 

Apparently he’d decided on his retinue.

 

The sound of the crowd’s resurgent cheers followed him as the two gladiators were directed off of the arena, together.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really well-received on Tumblr, so I'm kicking around the idea of expanding on it. I'll keep you posted if I do!


	5. The Book Thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Talliya, who sent me the prompt on Tumblr. "Did you catch the book thief."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely 4x5, safe for work, just banter and snark

“Did you catch the book thief?” A vaguely sardonic smirk accompanied the mildly amused and slightly sarcastic question.

  
Quatre groaned, though whether it was due to the attractive smirking or his growing frustration, well, that was for him to know and no one else to find out. “No, I did not catch the book thief, and I’m increasingly convinced it’s a prank.”

  
Over the last several weeks all of Quatre’s favorite novels had gone missing, one by one. He’d replaced the first few, thinking it was stress induced absentmindedness, but then the replacement copies had gone missing too, along with still more of his books. Books were his only secret pleasure. He worked long hours, sixteen and eighteen hour days, at his company, bolstering the reputation his father had grown from practically nothing, and he had very little time for anything other than a good book, and sometimes not even that. To have his only means of stress relief suddenly disappear was disconcerting.

  
Glancing up at the attractive Chinese man sitting casually across from his desk, an ankle over his knee, in a very well-tailored suit and peacoat, it occurred to Quatre that he might consider indulging in some other forms of stress relief.

  
“Maybe you should hire a private detective,” the other man mused, thread of amusement still present in the words.

  
“Perhaps I should,” Quatre responded gamely, “do you happen to know anyone?”

  
Considering that Wufei Chang was one of the most well-respected private detectives in the city, and had been working various jobs for Quatre for months, it was a poor joke. The other man chuckled anyway.

  
“I’d ask you to do it, you see, but I’ve been told you have standards,” Quatre continued, prodding him a bit more.

  
Wufei inclined his head gracefully, still smirking. “Speaking of my high standards,” he began, standing to retrieve his scarf and briefcase, and causing Quatre to sigh silently at the imminent loss of his company.

  
He couldn’t bring himself to look forward to the ledgers he had plans with for the remainder of the evening. In all fairness, however, it was after six and most reasonable people were calling it a day, and he couldn’t blame Wufei for wanting to wrap his day up. Their business, if one could call it that, had long been concluded.

  
“What are you doing for dinner?” the Chinese man asked, casually, as he began wrapping the scarf around his neck and buttoning his coat.

  
“Ah, I’m not sure,” Quatre floundered, caught off guard by the question. They’d always met at his office, Wufei preferring to choose times that were convenient for him and prevented Quatre from ‘ruining’ his investigation by turning up somewhere they might be seen together.

  
“Would you care to join me?” the other man asked, waiting patiently as Quatre gaped at him in surprise. “I assume you need to eat.”

  
“I, ah, yes, of course I do, um. Yes. I’d be- I’d be delighted,” Quatre stammered, reaching to shut down his computer and tidy the papers on his desk.

  
When he straightened to walk around the desk and leave his office, Wufei was standing at the door waiting, Quatre’s coat in hand.

  
Where Quatre would have taken the coat from him to put it on, Wufei instead held it up, open and inviting, for Quatre to slide his arms into. And when they got on the elevator, Wufei’s hand rested, briefly, at the small of his back as he ushered Quatre in ahead of him.

  
In the reflection of the elevator, Wufei’s smile was entirely self-satisfied, but Quatre couldn’t bring himself to be put out by it.


	6. Sleep Deprivation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For GoodIdeaAtTheTime who sent me the prompt:
> 
> Prompts! 2x5 4, 21, 30 or 35 (although someone had better watch the 6-hour Pride and Prejudice, because it is perfect and the only one worth watching). Oops I meant 40 not 30!
> 
> \-----
> 
> You gave me so many choices!!! I went with 4.) “It is too early for shenanigans.” I hope you enjoy this little batch of absurdity!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2x5, safe for work, implied sexytimes but nothing explicit

Wufei groaned as the deep bass of some rock music seemed to permeate his walls, waking him from the near-coma he had fallen into in the early hours of the morning.  He glared at the clock, bleary eyed.

In fairness, it was after nine in the morning, which was the agreed upon acceptable time for noise. 

But still.

It was too early for Maxwell’s shenanigans.  

Wufei had been on assignment for four days, first on a stake out, followed by an intense firefight, followed by arrests and bookings and interrogations and overall not enough rest to spread around, and he had been looking forward to at least eight hours of sleep.  He’d managed about five, and years ago, when he was a teenaged terrorist, that would have been sufficient.  Now, as thirty sailed over the horizon towards him, it wasn’t nearly enough.

Climbing out of the extremely comfortable bed, he considered murdering his braided roommate, but the other man was notoriously hard to kill.

And Wufei didn’t really have the energy.

He straightened the loose pajama pants that were the only thing he’d had the presence of mine to grab before he collapsed into bed and padded towards the front of the house, stepping out onto the second floor balcony that overlooked the backyard and garage, where he suspected he’d find his wayward friend.  Squinting in the bright morning sun, he scanned the yard and - yep.  Halfway under the car he was currently restoring he saw familiar tanned calves and beat up sneakers, radio blaring some twentieth century nightmare Duo called music.

“Maxwell!” he bellowed, trying to be heard over drums. 

Duo rolled out from under the car to grin up at Wufei, whose heart skipped a beat as his mouth went dry.  

Only Duo would worked on his car topless first thing in the morning.  It wasn’t even hot enough to justify it, the morning temperature barely topping sixty-five, the goosebumps on Wufei’s own skin testifying to the chill.

“Yo, Wufei,” he called back, “lemme turn down the music I can’t really hear ya!”  He fumbled in his pocket for a moment, and then the music cut out, blessed silence in its wake.  “You need somethin’? I thought you’d sleep a bit longer!”

“Yes,” Wufei muttered, dryly, “I thought so too.”

Duo stood up, looking him over critically, taking in the red-rimmed eyes, disheveled hair, and low slung pants, no doubt.  “You should go back to bed, you look like shit.”

“You’re too kind,” Wufei shot back, self-consciously straightening his hair.  “Please, don’t try to spare my ego.”

Duo had the grace to look somewhat abashed.  “I mean, you look good, man, you always do, but you look tired.  Why’re you up?”

Wufei blinked at him in surprise.  He cleared his throat.  “Well I was  _trying_  to sleep, but the grating noise you call music woke me.  I came to ask if you could turn it down, but I’m awake now and I doubt I’ll be able to get back to sleep.  Would you like a hand?”

It was Duo’s turn to blink in surprise.  “Ah, no, not really?  I’m just tinkerin’ with shit.  No big projects on the agenda today.  Sorry ‘bout the music, I’ll turn it off for a while.”  He looked Wufei over consideringly, again.  

His grin turned wicked.  “You want some help fallin’ asleep?”  

Leaning on the rail, Wufei snorted.  Normally he’d have chalked that up to typical Maxwell humor, brushed it off, found some way to occupy himself.  But now, well… he was tired and perhaps not at the top of his game, but he’d caught Duo’s comment about how he looked good and this wasn’t the first innuendo that had been thrown his way.  

“What did you have in mind?”

 

 


End file.
